


Everything Stays

by MyssaMyss



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, LinkedUniverse - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Linked Universe, LinkedUniverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-23 17:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyssaMyss/pseuds/MyssaMyss
Summary: Wild struggles to find a balance between duty and freedom after Calamity Ganon’s defeat. His unexpected departure into the Linked Universe forces him to examine his relationship with Zelda. Millennia prior, Malon and a stubborn Time stumble toward growing love in the years since his return from Termina. A string of fate connects the pairs across time and destiny…Based on the Linked Universe by Jojo at https://linkeduniverse.tumblr.com/





	1. The Moon Controls the Tide...

Link and Zelda stood at a fork in the road. The sound of croaking frogs rose from the nearby wetlands and the setting sun cast long shadows across the grass. Link took a surefooted step toward the left-hand path.

“North?” Zelda questioned. “Why north? The quickest route to Zora’s Domain is through Lanayru Wetlands, not around them. We’ll cut through Goponga.”

Link opened his mouth, then shut it again. He nodded and changed direction, heading right.

“What is it?” she asked, noticing his hesitation.

He glanced down the winding path that disappeared into swamp weeds. “We’ll get wet,” he said simply.

“Oh,” she murmured with soft realization. There may have once been a bridge or proper road cutting through the smattering of islands, and someone had at least _tried_ to keep the swampy route passable by lashing together logs to make a rudimentary walkway, but many sections were now sunken beneath water and muck. It was crossable, and Link wouldn’t have thought twice about taking the path through the ruins a few months ago. But he’d been on his own then. Now he was once again the princess’s escort. And, if he were honest, he didn’t know her well enough to assume she’d be comfortable splashing through a bog.

Zelda shrugged. “We have one hundred years of absence to make up for. If through the swamp is the quickest route, then through the swamp we’ll go. I’ve had enough of convention, and of wasted time.” She punctuated the end of her sentence with a formal nod, but then she froze theatrically before breaking into a wry grin.

She suddenly leapt off the path and into the reeds with a great splash, spraying mud in a wide circle. Her hair streamed behind her in a golden arc as she swung her head back around to share a gleeful smile. Link couldn’t help but laugh. He was learning that her actions could speak just as loudly as her words. Acquiescing, he bowed his head, strode into the lead, and the two began trekking into the swamp.

They pitched camp in the wetland ruins later that evening and set their boots to dry near the crackling fire. Then, a barefooted Link left to fish and catch frogs in the waning light. Darkness had fallen and the moon shone as he made his way back to their camp. He noticed a light coming toward him along the muddy path, reflecting off the surrounding water. Likely a traveler, yet Link raised his guard.

Someone carried a lantern, though it hung far too close to the ground. As Link drew near, he realized why: the light was clutched in the hand of a small boy. His clothes were filthy and he carried a large pack stuffed to the seams. Link splashed loudly as he approached to alert the boy to his presence in the darkness. The boy froze in fear.

“Hey, it’s alright!” Link called out to him. He stepped into the warm lantern light. “It’s ok, I’m a friend.”

The boy’s eyes were huge and sad, his face heavy with exhaustion and caked in grime. He looked up at Link with hesitant hope.

“Where are you headed?” Link asked him.

“Wetland Stable. Then Trilby Plain,” the boy told him.

“Family there?” Link asked.

The boy frowned and his eyes shone in the flickering light. “A cousin at the stable. And my brother Russ wrote about business in Trilby,” he said sadly. Link could guess why a grubby boy might be traveling across the wild country alone—he didn’t need to ask more. Though the boy’s words sparked a memory in Link’s mind.

“Russ?” he asked the boy. “He doesn’t sell shields, does he?” Link gave a half-smile as he recalled a sandy-haired salesman and the joy of shieldsurfing down a hillside.

The boy nodded. “He does! Ma and dad said it was a waste of time. Before...” the boy’s voice broke and he trailed off.

Link stared down at the lonely boy. If he were honest, he wanted nothing more than to accompany this boy on his journey. Not only for the boy’s protection (though that was certainly a reason, Link worried about anyone walking past nightfall), but because he wouldn’t mind a shieldsurfing detour, nor the warm beds and cheerful music of Wetland Stable. Had he met this boy months ago, he would have eagerly gone along for a short side trip. But now he was in the midst of a pressing mission that couldn’t be bookmarked. Zelda was determined to reach Zora’s Domain as soon as possible.

She’d already held back the darkness for one hundred years while desperately waiting for her chosen knight, and now she held grand dreams for their ruined kingdom, grander than any he could imagine. Who was he, to act like an errant adventurer instead of the steadfast friend she needed? He wasn’t alone anymore, he reminded himself, so he couldn’t just run off and help each needy person they stumbled upon. Zelda’s noble hopes for all of Hyrule were worth that small sacrifice.

Still, he could offer the boy a warm place to sleep. “We have a camp, me and my traveling companion,” Wild told the boy while pointing over his small shoulder. “Off that way. You’re welcome to rest for the night.”

The boy shook his head. “Our home is lying empty, there’s too many things to carry. I need to tell my family before we lose everything to monsters. But thanks,” he told Link. The boy started walking down the path again.

Link put a hand to the boy’s arm. “What about rupees? A weapon?” he offered, but the boy simply shrugged him off, shook his small head once more, and continued walking.

“The night is dangerous,” Link called after him.

“I know,” the boy called back, with a tone far too dark for his years.

Link stood for a conflicted minute and watched the bobbing lantern disappear down the path in the direction of Hyrule Field. Then, he returned to his princess.

***

Countless years before, another conflicted young hero rode his horse across an unseasonably warm Hyrule Field. This Link was clad in a green tunic, with a large, two-handed sword and a colorful steel shield at his back, secured by a leather strap that crossed his broad chest. The sun beat down on him and scorched the shield, which radiated scalding heat. He considered reaching into his saddle bag for his ocarina to call a storm. Rain would be a better fit for his mood anyway, he thought to himself. He only deliberated for a moment, before changing his mind. He hadn’t played the ocarina in a long time.

He finally caught sight of the ranch glimmering in the distance, nestled softly between grassy hills. His visits there had grown in frequency through recent years. When odd jobs ended and he hit the road once more, he’d find himself absentmindedly turning the familiar bend in the dirt road that led back to the ranch. And as much as he wanted to blame Epona, he had enough self-awareness to know why he kept coming back: the ranch was the closest thing he had to a home. But that was precisely the problem, as homes were made for leaving. At least, _his_ homes were. How many times had he felt the sharp wound of a lost place, or worse, a lost friend? Most days he could travel on and on with an easy joy, but every now and again he felt a dull ache from his pockmarked heart, reminding him of the bitter losses he’d suffered at such a young age.

_Bitter losses that she should never have to taste_, he thought to himself as a beautiful vision of a redheaded farm girl rose in his mind. He was determined to return to the ranch once more and say goodbye—a word that had too often gone unsaid with his own losses. Then, to spare them both, he would move on. _You’ve already grown too close to her_, he chastised, remembering the soft wisp of an unexpected kiss she’d pressed to his cheek the last time he’d visited. _Too close indeed_.

He rode on, sweat slipping down his back in the heat as he braced himself for the difficult conversation that lay ahead. 


	2. ...It'll Cause You to Drown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring the first two panels of ["The Bet"](https://linkeduniverse.tumblr.com/post/180707357469/based-off-these-guys-linkeduniverse-the) by Jojo.

Link rode into the heart of Lon Lon Ranch with a single-minded purpose: _his visits needed to end._

He dismounted and fought against the comforting familiarity that rose to meet him as he approached the ranch house. Even this small stretch of yard held sweet memories. Once, in a fit of playful frustration, Malon had upturned an entire jug of milk over his head in this very spot, laughing melodiously all the while. They’d both gotten in trouble with her father at the time. Now, he smiled to recall the refreshing shock.

If he stepped just a little further onto the grounds to the main corral, he’d come upon an older memory. His favorite memory of her, but one that only he knew:

_“I can’t believe it, but peace is returning to this ranch! It’s all because of you! I owe you so much! Thank you! Thank you, Link!”_

He clung to that memory like a candle in darkness after returning to his childhood, for though he’d been forced to reforge many friendships, rebuilding Malon’s trust had frustrated him the most. At first, he hadn’t thought much of that frustration. The memory of their first meeting burned brightly in his mind: she’d been the only child in a sea of strange adults filling a strange town, back when he was fresh out of the Kokiri forest and utterly overwhelmed. But she seemed safe, so he was drawn to her like a moth to a vivid red flame. Years later, she’d somehow _remembered_ him after he emerged from the Temple of Time. Losing such a meaningful history with any friend was bound to be frustrating, or so he’d justified. But then their relationship grew beyond what had been lost, and he found himself thinking of her constantly. He hadn’t realized until too late—she'd become his haven.

The weight of his feelings for her hadn’t struck him until his last visit, when she confessed to thinking of him often, too, before delicately pressing her lips to his cheek. Her kiss blindsided him with happiness. But that euphoria lasted only until he was back in the saddle and leaving the ranch. Once he was out on the open road, he’d finally been able to _think_. He’d been so caught up in joy that he’d almost forgotten his most painful lesson in trusting others; he knew what inevitably happened to the people he placed his comfort in...

Link sighed loudly to shake away his thoughts, turned to the ranch house, and forced his hand to knock at the familiar wooden door.

_Just say what needs saying. Then leave_, he coached himself as he waited at the threshold. He could even leave the message with her father. She was usually out with the horses at this time of day, so he could just speak with Talon and leave her undistracted. But the stifling heat must have interrupted her daily schedule, because when the door flew open, he found himself face-to-face with Malon.

“Link!” she exclaimed. Her eyes shone with excitement and her lips—the same soft lips he now felt in his dreams—broke into a huge smile. Distracted, he couldn’t get a single word out before she pulled him into an exuberant hug, trapping his arms by his side and scattering his thoughts completely.

“I’ve missed you, fairy boy! Looking for some more work?” she asked. He smiled at the nickname. He’d grown taller than ever before, yet she still teased him as she had when he was a boy.

“You picked a heckuva day to do some farm chores,” she warned him with a teasing smile. She pulled the back of her hand across her glistening brow.

He focused on fixing this memory of her in his mind: her blue eyes full of laughter, one hand still clutching his arm, her vibrant hair framing her flushed face. If he walked away now, he could remember her this way, always.

He took a deep breath.

“I actually... came to say goodbye,” he told her. “For awhile, at least.”

Malon’s expression turned wooden. “What do you mean…?” she asked.

“I probably won’t be back for a long time,” he told her, staring at the yellow kerchief draped over her shoulder so he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes.

If she was upset, she hid it well, and Link silently thanked the goddesses for Malon’s gracious spirit.

“Where will you stay tonight?” she asked, her voice becoming surprisingly cheery. “Won’t you stay with us, just for _one_ night? The spare room is made up already, you can sleep warm and cozy there.”

She peered up at him and he nearly drowned in her blue eyes, brimming with hope beneath deep lashes. Link didn’t know how to refuse.

“Fine,” he agreed.

_One night._ In the morning, he’d say goodbye.

***

Wild carefully nocked three arrows onto his bow. He glanced down from the low cliff he stood atop to mark his makeshift leaf targets knifed to a tree nearly fifty meters away, then he leapt from the cliff and drew back the bowstring in a single fluid motion.

He exhaled steadily as he fell, seeking the familiar state of perfect concentration when the wind in his ears would quiet and the world would stand still.

Instead, the wind roared and the world blurred around him. He felt a surprising twinge of pain as he let his arrows fly, before rapidly stowing his bow and switching his hands to grab the handles of his glider in well-practiced coordination. His left forearm stung. As he floated back down to the ground, Zelda’s voice echoed in his mind:

_“May I ask, do you really remember me?”_

A second voice followed. Warriors, this time, from the night before:

_“...and a guy like him? He’s well collected, acts like he’s always on duty.”_

Wild’s feet touched down in soft grass and he stowed his glider, glancing at his forearm which sported a red, angry welt where the bowstring had whipped across it. He hadn’t made that mistake since the Great Plateau—and even then, the muscle memory of pulling a bow had quickly cured him of the habit. It was amazing how much his subconscious remembered; if only his consciousness could have followed suit.

He marched to the target-tree. Two of the arrows had at least met the trunk, though the third was nowhere to be seen. He peered into the forest and tried to catch a glimpse of the fletching amid the dull green grass.

Footsteps crunched from behind him.

“You _missed_?” Legend called out incredulously as he emerged from deeper in the forest. The man’s red tunic stood out against the dark greens surrounding them, though the contrast was less striking than usual. Wild realized with a slight start that the light in the forest was waning.

Legend stared at the targets. “We may have to revoke your ‘Greatest Archer of All Link-Kind’ title,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m surprised you’re still out here, I thought you were heading back early to cook.”

Wild sighed and said nothing. Legend took the hint.

The soft clink of armor and the nearly imperceptible pad of a second pair of footsteps against the forest floor met Wild’s ears. He turned to see Time and Twilight making their way through the underbrush from the direction of camp. Twilight smiled and raised a gauntlet-covered hand in a casual wave as he approached. Wild managed to twitch the side of his mouth into a half smile for his friend, but the slight darkening of Twilight’s expression told him that he hadn’t been very convincing.

“We’re heading out next, thought we’d come find you two since, uh...” Twilight trailed off.

“We weren’t sure if you were still cooking,” Time picked up smoothly, turning to Wild, “or if you wanted someone else to? If you need more time training, any of us can step in, the job doesn’t always have to fall to you.”

Wild dropped his gaze and nodded. “I’m fine. Let me grab my arrows, I’m done,” he replied flatly. He turned and started off in the direction of his lost arrow, acutely aware of the telling silence from the other heroes behind him. Did they really find it so strange that he’d lost track of time?

After a quiet moment, he heard the distinctive steps of the mentor-and-student pair as they walked deeper into the woods. Wild crouched among the forest foliage and tried to find a piece of broken grass or skid-scored dirt that might announce his arrow’s path, but the day’s light was failing fast. Besides, he reasoned, he had hundreds of arrows in his Sheikah slate, what point was there in collecting this one? He straightened up, dismayed, and turned to find Legend waiting for him.

“No luck, huh?” he asked Wild, raising his eyebrows in a rare show of genuine concern.

Wild shook his head and strode to where Legend stood, then they started back toward camp together. The only sounds between them were the quiet jostling of gear and the swishing of Legend’s tunic.

“Hey, Legend,” Wild said softly as he pushed aside a low-hanging branch. “Thank you. For what you said last night.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, anytime.” Legend shrugged. “I was getting damn sick of it too. Plus, I have a feeling that I’ll win this bet.” He smirked.

Wild wasn’t so sure, but he gave Legend an amused smile in return. He wasn’t necessarily sick of the Wife Debate. But the conversation at camp last night had stirred a deep realization inside of him, leaving him unsettled.

Ever since the heroes had learned of Time’s mysterious wife, they had taken to swapping theories about her identity each time the Old Man left camp. Everyone was curious. Well, everyone except Twilight, who likely knew more than he let on, and Legend, who had kept uncharacteristically quiet during the discussions, until last night:

> _“My money’s still on Zelda,” Warriors reiterated. To no one’s surprise, Sky nodded his hearty agreement._
> 
> _Legend stood up suddenly and joined the banter for the first time. “You think he’s married to Zelda?” he asked Warriors, sarcasm dripping from his voice._
> 
> _“He speaks so highly of her,” Warriors explained, “and a guy like him? He’s well collected, acts like he’s always on duty. It’s got to be the princess herself.”_

The pair had bickered lightly until Legend finally ended the discussion by throwing down a bet. Still, Warriors’ words had already stuck in Wild’s mind like a splinter he just couldn’t pick out. They poked at his conscience, and he found himself running over the words again and again long into the night, becoming increasingly frustrated. Because Warriors’ reasoning about Time was sound; the older man never quite seemed at ease. Was that the price to pay for winning the princess? Though, Legend apparently disagreed...

Wild glanced at the other Link walking beside him. He hadn’t realized it before, but he and Legend had something in common: the ability to listen and see. _So maybe he’s right, _Wild considered_. _Legend did a great job of feigning indifference behind fast words, but his actions betrayed his insight. Like now, as they walked through the forest, sharing the comfortable understanding that nothing more needed saying. 

Later that evening, Wild sat beside their campfire and halved mushrooms with a short paring knife while his mind still spun. After last night’s talk of partners and princesses, couldn’t help but replay that final evening with _his_ Princess Zelda—the night he’d been whisked away. He’d returned from his upsetting encounter with the orphan in the swamp, but said nothing about it to Zelda. Instead, he sat beside the fire and listened. Zelda spoke ceaselessly of Zora’s Domain which lay ahead, her eagerness to meet with Prince Sidon after so much time, and her relief to be traveling Hyrule once more. Wild had been quiet. She was so captivating, and passionate, and he couldn’t bear to break her excitement.

Deeper, unspoken words still hung between them, but Wild had always struggled to voice the unsaid. In honesty, he wasn’t sure what she needed from him. With only a few scraps of memories to work from, he didn’t dare hazard a guess at her deeper thoughts. Still, he’d seen enough in his memories to guess at what she _expected_ of him, and he fell easily back into a half-remembered regimen of simply listening and doing his job.

He’d gotten up to stoke their campfire when the scenery around him shifted abruptly and he found himself standing barefoot in an entirely different Hyrule with no way back, despite how desperately he tried to return to her. So, he kept moving forward. He’d done a fair enough job of keeping her out of his mind, at least until the Wife Debate began.

A rustling noise rose behind Wild. He automatically turned away from their brightly lit camp to peer out into the forest, but his eyes couldn’t see much in the darkness. He turned back to the stew pot and continued slicing, unbothered. The woods were teeming with wildlife, plus he trusted in Wind and Hyrule’s ability to keep their watch. And even if enemies lurked out in the forest, Wild had probably fought worse.

But what about his Zelda, alone and a world away? He tried not to worry. After all, she was clever and resourceful, and the monsters across their Hyrule had lost some ferocity since Calamity Ganon’s defeat. Not to mention she proved a quick study with a sword. She slew her first bokoblin with a scimitar near the Hylia River in a flashing gleam of steel and ruby. He suspected that she’d been secretly practicing long before he began teaching her. Wild had full confidence in her abilities.

The matter of her safety aside, half of his heart still ached to return to her, and to their journey across Hyrule. His _own_ Hyrule, the one he had worked so hard to rescue. Yet as he journeyed instead with the heroes of ages past, he began to realize something else, too: he felt happier here, adventuring, than he’d ever felt back home. His heart was conflicted. He knew what he should want—but he was altogether sick of ‘shoulds’. He’d had enough of duty for duty’s sake. _Sure makes things easier though,_ he reflected. A duty was clear, while his own desires were proving fickle.

Wild shook his head and threw the heaping pile of mushrooms into the boiling pot, then he thumbed the painful welt on his forearm. _Stewing over stew_, he mused to himself with a quiet chuckle. _At least some things never change._


	3. A Lighter Underside

Malon lay in bed, sweating. Between the suffocating heat and her baffling fairy boy, she knew she wouldn’t sleep anytime soon. Instead, she stared up at her ceiling in the darkness and pondered. Link had been stoic ever since he showed up on the ranch earlier that afternoon, and he barely spoke throughout dinner. She even prepared his favorite creamy stew to soften him up, yet he said little more than _thank you_, followed by a lame excuse about some opportunity out on the edge of the kingdom. Admittedly, the stew would have tasted better if she’d had more time to let it, well, _stew_, but Fairy Boy hadn’t given her a lot of notice before waltzing up to her front door with his half-baked plan at goodbye. Frustration simmered in her chest. She knew, she _knew_ confessing her feelings might backfire, yet she hadn’t made much of a counter-plan. Maybe she’d read him wrong…

After all, she also knew he hid things from her. She heard it in the way he clipped off his sentences, or how he sometimes thought long and hard before answering her questions. He’d _always_ been mysterious, but several years ago Malon had sensed a dark shift in his demeanor.

She tried to quiet her nagging insecurities. Because surely that shift had nothing to do with _her_, she reminded herself. Whatever haunted him seemed much deeper. Still, she had long feared that he would lose interest in their friendship. Link was always traveling near and far, while she herself had barely journeyed beyond Castletown. She was simple and he was exciting. But he kept coming back to the ranch, so her hopes lived on, and she always held secret faith that their friendship was fated to grow into something more. Because what other explanation could there possibly be for a mysterious boy appearing in her life, first to rescue her father, then to visit her ranch and somehow play the same song her mother taught her so long ago?

And hadn’t her hopes held weight only a few weeks ago? Once she’d taken the terrifying plunge and finally admitted her feelings, Link had _blossomed_. He’d been smiling easily and humming through his ranch chores, and for a day his melancholy seemed lifted. But now, though Link was staying just down the hall, he seemed more distant and troubled than ever.

If he was any other young man, she’d suspect that another girl had come along. But this was _Link_ for Hylia’s sake. He had many talents, but ensnaring ladies was not one of them. Oh, plenty of women adored him, Malon certainly noticed _that_. And who could blame them—he was kind and strong and true. Besides, Malon could tell that Link had absolutely no idea. He was innocent as a summer’s day was long.

But there were clearly secrets he was clutching close to his chest, and Malon was determined to figure out just what this strange young man was hiding. She couldn’t afford to act heartbroken, even if her heart was aching at the thought of him walking away after she had finally found the courage for a small kiss. Instead, she forced her wounded heart aside and pledged to use every ounce of her intuition to get Link talking. He may have made it through dinner without giving up his reasons, but she wasn’t about to let him leave the ranch without an explanation.

***

After a morning of trudging through the cool forest, the band of heroes came upon a tiny outpost town built along the dirt road. A handful of small, wooden houses stood half-hidden by dense green foliage, and a simple store faced the road with a wide porch welcoming travelers.

Warriors glanced at Time and raised his chin toward the store. “Supplies. We should stop,” he said. Time shot discerning glances to each modest building surrounding them before turning back to Warriors with a curt nod.

“So cautious…” Legend scoffed quietly from behind Wild. “As if we aren’t already the most dangerous group traveling this road.”

“Yeah!” Wind agreed less quietly. “Any enemies here? We could take ‘em!”

Hyrule turned and gave them a neutral look. The others carried on in silence. Wild grabbed his Sheikah slate from his hip and tapped it purposefully as they walked. One of his meanest-looking (and most unwieldy) weapons appeared in his hands: a massive three-winged boomerang that he’d stolen off a lizalfos. He took care not to nick himself on the jagged edges as he strapped it to his back.

Wind giggled behind him. “Way to look the part,” he half-whispered. Wild gave a furtive grin.

As they climbed the creaking porch stairs, Wild’s ears caught another, softer sound—a quiet rustling from their right. He turned instinctively to find its source.

A skinny boy clad in a worn, brown tunic peeked up at their group from amidst the bushes below the edge of the porch floor. Wild recognized a sad curiosity in the boy’s eyes as they darted to the heroes’ armor and heavy weaponry. While the others headed into the shop to haggle over supplies, Wild paused to make a split-second decision. Restocking had already seemed low priority for him; he had more than enough items in his slate. _Why not take the opportunity to finally help someone small?_

Wild crossed the porch silently and leapt the railing. He landed in a crouch just behind the boy.

“Hey,” he said softly.

The boy spun around, shocked, but Wild shared a soothing smile, raised a finger to his own lips, then gave the boy an exaggerated wink.

The boy giggled. Wild watched some sadness lift from the boy’s shoulders, and some of the buried guilt in Wild’s own heart lifted with it. _Maybe helping **this** boy is enough._

Wild gestured to the wickedly sharp three-winged boomerang on his back. The boy’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Wanna see it fly?” Wild asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

The young boy nodded wildly.

Wild took two steps away from the boy and planted his feet in the mossy ground. He drew the boomerang. Behind the shop was a glade with a wide pond, but he knew the weapon would fly even further, so he angled his throw so that the spinning blades would clear the far trees. He paused just long enough to appreciate a familiar, calm contentment rising deep within his chest, and he knew in his bones that his concentration had returned.

He threw the boomerang with all his might.

It sailed in a long arc through the window of blue sky, then came whizzing back toward them with a deadly-sounding _whishhh_. The boomerang was coming in high. The catch would be difficult. Wild smiled to himself. 

He leapt. The boy gasped.

Wild threw his arm into the path of the whirling blades. His palm met the leather-wrapped handle with a satisfying thud. He fell back to the ground, triumphantly clutching the boomerang and reveling in his own precision. The abilities locked deep within his well-trained body could be incredibly _fun_—when his mind wasn’t standing in the way.

The boy cheered and clapped wildly. “That was amazing,” his small voice squeaked.

Wild grinned and held out the giant weapon.“You wanna hold it?”

***

“Where’s Wild?” Time asked, turning to the rest of the group gathered outside of the store. Based on his conversation with the shopkeeper, their party had a chance of making it to the next town by nightfall if they left now and traveled swiftly. Time worried at how long they’d journeyed without purpose. The sooner they made it to a true city, the sooner they could glean information on what they were all doing here, and _why_. They could complete whatever strange quest they were on. And then, just maybe, they could all go _home_. But they couldn’t head out without Wild.

Time had noticed small things about Wild lately. The young man had stopped sharing stories around the cooking pot in favor of silence. He no longer tagged along for Twilight’s shifts on watch, and he barely sparred with the others. Now, he was missing.

“I haven’t seen him,” Twilight replied.

“He wasn’t in the shop—he didn’t buy anything,” Four added.

Legend and Sky shrugged.

“I think he went off with that kid?” Wind offered.

Time hid his growing concern behind action. “We should split up and find him,” he directed.

The heroes nodded in agreement and started off in separate directions, yet they only managed to take a handful of steps. Their short search was interrupted by the distant _BOOM_ of an explosion, followed by a great splashing noise. All eight Links spun toward the sound.

“_Wild_!” Twilight and Warriors hissed together.

A foreboding thought flashed through Time’s mind: _Was stopping here a mistake? Did I put them in danger?_

The heroes took off sprinting toward the explosion’s echo. Legend led, yet Time and the others kept pace as they flew past the store and dashed into the clearing. The sound of a second explosion split the air. Time itched to draw his heavy sword as the pond grew closer.

He caught sight of two figures on the opposite side of the wide pond near a crop of green cattails: a man in a sky-blue tunic and someone small. The heroes skidded to a halt across moss and dirt. Time threw a hand to his brow and squinted against the sunlight.

Wild stood on the other side of the pond, knee deep in the shimmering water alongside a tiny boy, with a fish clutched in each of his hands. The two were sopping wet. And shaking with laughter. And clearly, even from the distance, in no danger.

The eight heroes stood in anticlimactic silence broken only by their gasps of heavy breathing. Time could feel the others’ eyes darting to him in uneasy expectation.

“I’ll get him,” Time gruffed. He strode past Twilight, who all but jumped out of his way. “The rest of you should get ready to leave.”

Time rounded the pond. He, too, had noticed the boy in the bushes with small, sad eyes who’d watched their party cross the porch. They boy’s hair was dark and his tunic was brown but the sadness in his gaze had called to Time’s own boyhood sorrow. Time couldn’t dwell on his feelings, though. He already had eight other boys to watch over, not to mention a wife waiting patiently for his return, and he’d lived long enough to learn he could never heal all the hurts in all the worlds across time. So, he’d passed the boy by.

Time drew near the pair. “Wild,” he called out sternly. Wild jumped, then turned and met Time’s disapproving eye. The young man’s goofy grin disappeared. He slowly handed the fish to the boy next to him, keeping unwavering eye contact with Time all the while.

“It’s time to go,” Time told him.

Wild’s eyes narrowed slightly. “_In a moment_,” he replied, expression unreadable. Wild turned back to the boy. He tapped at his Sheikah slate to produce a small, wooden boomerang and several gleaming gold rupees. Wild crouched down and whispered in the boy’s ear, then pressed the boomerang to his tiny chest and the rupees into his hand. A twinge of emotion wavered in Time’s own chest. The boy giggled, curled his fingers around the rupees, and took off running.

Wild turned back to Time, nodded once, and fell into perfect step beside him as they started back around the pond toward the others.

Time put aside his sentimentality and fixed his good eye on Wild. “What were you _doing_?” he asked.

“Fishing?” Wild answered.

_‘With explosions?’_ was Time’s immediate thought, though he didn’t let his amused bewilderment bleed onto his face. If he hadn’t been in the middle of lecturing the young man, he would have asked for a demonstration. He loved fishing. And explosions. The combination sounded exciting. But for now, he had to be the responsible one.

Wild stared straight ahead at the approaching houses and didn’t offer more explanation.

Time spoke into the silence. “Look, you can’t just run off on your own,” he chided. “We have something important to do. We don’t have the luxury of tarrying here.”

Wild didn’t turn to look at him. He didn’t break his step. But Time could sense Wild’s posture stiffen at his words, ever so slightly.

“Don‘t you ever take a break?” Wild asked so quietly that Time could barely make the words out.

“What?”

“To stop and help someone? Or do something fun?” Wild said, louder now.

Time caught a sharp edge to Wild’s words. He must’ve hit on something churning in Wild’s mind...

And to answer the question, Time thought silently, _yes_. He _adored_ breaks, and he’d admittedly taken _many_ detours on his early adventures. Fond memories of lazy days spent catching fish and teaching a chorus of frogs to sing rose in his mind. But that was different. He’d had _time_ then, whether it was a blessing or a curse.

“You could have at least told one of us where you were going. We were worried, Wild.”

Time’s words had barely left his mouth before he realized he’d said nothing of Wild’s question. _The kid asks something serious and I scold him, what lousy leadership,_ he thought as regret rose in his throat. Falling back on his old question-dodging ways was too easy without Malon there to challenge him. He could almost hear her lilting voice in his head: ‘_Did you ever stop to think why he might be asking the question? C’mon, **think** Fairy Boy_,’ she pressed him. Goddesses, he missed her.

Wild blinked in plain confusion at Time’s scolding. Time felt even worse. Had Wild truly never even _considered_ checking in with someone so they wouldn’t worry? _How much time had this kid spent alone?_

Time knew enough to hold his questions for another time. He’d already made a mess of their conversation. Wild was clearly upset. Time wouldn’t pry.

The two heroes walked back toward the others in fractured silence.


	4. When You Turn It Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Jojo's comic, ["MaLink Past"](https://linkeduniverse.tumblr.com/post/180474221139/yes-honesty-is-necessary-particularly-for-these).

The next morning, Link woke before the sun, readied his gear, and crept out the door. He made his way to the stable as dim light began to color the ranch. A mercifully cool wind swept in from the fields; the heat had finally broken. Link reached the large stable door and pulled at the latch, only to haul the door open and freeze in surprise.

Malon stood in the middle of the stable, running a coarse brush through a spotted mare’s mane.

She turned and gave him an accusing glare that made his limbs turn ice-cold. They stood there, still and staring, neither speaking. Link swallowed in the back of his throat, but he didn’t back down. Malon broke the silence first.

“You’re up early,” she told him dryly.

“So are you.”

Malon gave him a strange look and he sucked in a breath, but then she turned back to the mare and continued brushing. The stable was quiet but for the slow, rhythmic rustling of brush against mane.

Taking her silence as understanding, Link exhaled and strode into the stable. Straw crunched beneath his boots, and the sound of Malon’s brushstrokes was drowned out by his swift steps. He began readying Epona’s tack.

“So you’re just leaving?” she asked him after several long minutes. A half-hidden hurt laced her words.

He turned back to her. Her hands gently stroked the mare’s muzzle, but her blue-eyed gaze was sharper than any sword.

“I’m not ‘just leaving’,” he replied, taken aback.

She shook her head and her bangs went flying. “_Really_? Because it seems to me that you were fixing to leave here before we had a chance to talk.”

Link felt stunned. He’d been trying his best to do right by her. At least, he _thought_ he was.

“We did talk. And I even stayed for dinner. I came here to give a proper goodbye, like you deserve.” _And I didn’t have to_, Link thought to himself bitterly as he mounted Epona. Maybe coming to the ranch had been a mistake. Maybe this was the problem with long goodbyes and explanations. Maybe they only made things worse. _Just leave_, he told himself.

Her voice rose. “_Why_ though? Why are you leaving now? I thought we were finally getting, well... _close_.” She glanced away with her last word.

“I don’t get close to people,” he said sharply. She winced.

“But if there’s anything I’ve learned,” he continued, “it’s that there’s always a parting. Nothing ever lasts.”

Malon stared past him to the open stable door with a silent frown. Link nudged Epona’s side with the heel of his boot, spurring the horse to a walk.

“You’re right.” Malon’s quiet voice cut through the air. “We’ve been friends since childhood, yet there’s very little I know about you, or even the world. What does a _dumb farm girl_ know?”

_What_? He pulled back on Epona’s reigns and turned back to Malon, shocked. “Malon, _no_, I-I didn’t mean…”

Her face softened and her voice grew sincere. “But I’d like to,” she said with a small, hopeful smile. “I’d like to know... Ever since that day you played my mother’s song, I’ve wondered.”

She stared at him with deep blue eyes full of such care and _longing_. His resolve melted away. Because _anything_ was worth this—the way she was staring at him now, shoulders squared with passionate hope and her bottom lip held half-open in plea. His chest ached at the few meters of distance already between them. Maybe... he could turn back. Maybe he could explain things and let her in. Her honest, fierce need for him was worth abandoning his self-imposed rules.

He nodded to her slowly and her face brightened with joy, encouraging him. He swung a leg over Epona and dismounted. The aching in his chest faded, and an intoxicating warmth rose to take its place.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” he admitted. He sat down on a nearby hay bale.

Malon waited a few quiet moments, then she came to sit by his side. She smoothed her long purple skirt over her knees, tucked her red bangs behind a delicately pointed ear, then met Link’s eyes with a disarming stare.

“Why does nothing ever last?” she asked simply.

“Well…everyone leaves...even you…” he murmured.

Malon’s brows drew together in confusion.

“Well, not you,” he backtracked. “_Another_ you. And I suppose I’m the one who left then... I’m sorry. I’ve never really tried to explain it all before, to someone on the outside.”

She placed her hand against his arm just beneath the sleeve of his green tunic. Link started. He knew she was trying to comfort him, but her gentle touch felt like an electric shock. Though unlike real-life electrocution (which Link was too familiar with), the feeling was admittedly pleasant, and the memory of danger primed his mind, emboldening him. He looked down at the straw-covered floor and gathered his thoughts.

“You remember the first time we met? I was going to the castle?” he asked.

She nodded, enthralled.

“Well,” he began. “I broke into the castle, and there was this prophecy…”

***

Wild trailed behind the other heroes as they walked along a wooded path. He didn’t often take up the rear, as he was well-accustomed to walking long distances (unlike poor Wind). But today he craved the familiar comfort of solitude.

He kept a handful of pleasant memories in relief to fall back on when he felt overwhelmed, a collection built before the Calamity’s defeat when thoughts of failure and Zelda’s long-suffering threatened to overwhelm him. As he walked, he shuffled through the series of memories, imagining himself darting after little Cottla through cool grass above the hills near Kakariko, trading iridescent insects with a wide-eyed Beedle in a warm stable, or standing in the golden Tarry Town sunshine during Hudson and Rhondson’s wedding. He enjoyed escaping to these moments when he’d been nothing more than himself, without expectation or prophecy.

Wild’s thoughts were interrupted as he noticed Time falling back in their group’s walking order. It wasn’t unusual for him to double back to chat with Twilight, but Time didn’t pause beside the fur-clad hero now. Instead, he kept his pace suspiciously slow, until he was nearly even with Wild. His armor clanked with each step.

Wild fixed his eyes just above Wind’s crop of bright blonde hair ahead of them.

“Wild,” Time began, his voice quiet. He slowed his pace even further, widening the gap between Wind and the two of them. Wild matched him, but said nothing.

“I wanted to apologize,” Time said. He sounded sincere. Wild turned his head to show he was listening.

“I’m sorry for coming down on you at the pond, over the kid. I was just…worried. Lately you’ve been…” Time searched for a word, but seemed to think better of it. “Anyways. I know you can handle yourself. And if you want to talk, about anything...” Time shrugged.

Wild nodded. He wasn’t angry with Time. The man just made him uneasy, and Wild wanted to be left alone. Still, he appreciated Time’s willingness to humbly apologize, even if it took clear effort. Wild pushed back against his own annoyance and resolved to make an effort, too. Besides, Wild thought, if he couldn’t be alone, then maybe he ought to face his simmering unease head-on instead. He was good at throwing himself into the thick of things.

“Why’d you get married?” Wild blurted, hurling himself into the very subject he felt so keen on _avoiding_. He didn’t dare look over at Time. But the older man surprised him by taking the seemingly random question in stride. From the corner of Wild’s eye, he saw Time cocking his head and considering his answer carefully.

“Hm,” Time mused. He gave a small, uncharacteristic smile. “I guess… I got married… to share trust with someone.” He paused. “It wasn’t easy, at first. I mean, none of us are big on talking.” Time threw a glance toward the rest of their party. “Well, maybe Legend. But never about anything _real_.”

Wild nodded, listening guardedly.

“But having someone to listen? It keeps you sane.”

He heard a bite in Time’s voice. Wild’s gaze flicked to the red and blue marks that flanked the ruined eye.

Time caught the quick glance. “She knows about all of it.”

Wild let his head fall down toward the ground in minor embarrassment. He of all people knew the discomfort of a curious gaze. He resisted the urge to scratch at his scarred ear.

He kicked a rock instead and thought about Time’s answer. True openness sounded very difficult to put into practice. Wild might have once shared that kind of trust, that kind of _love_ with another. ‘_Might_’ being the key word, as he could never be completely sure. A vision of Mipha’s delicate face swam in his mind. They _might_ have been planning a life together...

_Hard to share my honest thoughts when I can’t even remember them_, Wild thought coldly.

“It wasn’t easy,” Time added softly, breaking the silence. Wild had barely noticed the long pause between them. _Damn, still rusty at carrying on a conversation._ Monologuing in his mind certainly didn’t help. He focused in on Time’s words.

“And there were bumps, she isn’t perfect. And I’m not either. I wasn’t sure it would last,” Time said. “But she hasn’t left yet.”

Wild nodded. “Thank you,” he told the older man.

Time clapped him on the shoulder, then began humming a vaguely familiar song as he picked up his pace and made his way to the front of the group, leaving a relieved Wild behind. The older man respected solitude, and seemed to understand Wild’s own need for it.

***

Malon knocked twice on the door to Link’s room, but there was no answer. Maybe he was sleeping again? He’d been taking on more than his fair share of ranch chores lately, she figured he was bound to be exhausted. Didn’t he know that his work ethic already far outstripped her father’s expectations without any of the added effort? She knew her father was already impressed. Link didn’t need to prove himself further. He was easily their best ranch hand, and he fit well in their little family. Besides, Talon had _apparently_ already given Link his blessing years ago. Link needn’t be nervous now.

She pushed the door open quietly, but was met with an empty, neatly made bed. No sign of her Link.

Her eyes fell to something lying on the bedside table, an item that she had only seen a handful of times before: the ocarina. The ocarina whose notes had first sown the seeds of adoration deep in Malon’s heart as Link had impossibly played Malon’s most treasured song. For years she’d believed that Link’s unexplainable knowledge of the song was a sign from above, perhaps even from her own mother, that she and Link had a future together. Now she knew his true past, and the instrument had taken on an entirely different legendary nature in her mind. She crossed the room and ran her fingers across its glazed surface without thinking. It was smooth and cool to the touch. She gathered it in her hands—

“What are you doing?”

She spun around to see Link standing in the doorway. For the first time in many months, his face was a closed door. A painful lump caught in Malon’s throat as she realized her grave mistake. She carefully returned the ocarina to the bedside table with a small _clink_ and stepped away as hot embarrassment rose in her chest.

“Link, I’m sorry...” she began. Link crossed the room to place himself between her and the ocarina. She glanced up into his eyes and found deep pain staring back. The few inches of space separating their chests felt like a vast distance.

“Please go,” he told her quietly. She nodded solemnly and left his room, easing the door shut behind her. As the latch clicked, despair welled up inside her heart. She had repaid his trust with unchecked curiosity, and all the sorries in the world wouldn’t take back her trespass. 


	5. Crystal Tide Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring ["Malon 1"](https://linkeduniverse.tumblr.com/post/173747418214/about-linkeduniverse-part-1-of-0) , ["Malon 3"](https://linkeduniverse.tumblr.com/post/175279896644/about-linkeduniverse-part-3-of-0) , and ["Malon 4"](https://linkeduniverse.tumblr.com/post/175279962739/about-linkeduniverse-part-4) by Jojo.

Warriors was wrong, and Wild felt lighter for it. A small weight had settled in his chest when Time first announced their detour, but the pasturelands that now surrounded them were certainly no castle, and the woman kissing Time looked nothing like Zelda. Instead, everything about this woman announced her commonness, from her simple cotton clothes to the long working-apron belted to her waist. She held Time with two strong arms that had clearly seen hard labor. Her hair was tied back in what would be an unassuming style, were it not for its startling red color.

The heroes murmured their surprise.

“It’s not Zelda, pay up!” Legend whispered with glee.

Warriors grudgingly handed over a bag of rupees.

Sky clearly didn’t mind being wrong—he was beaming widely at the pair. Wild glanced at Twilight, whose face held happy wonder, and at Hyrule who, to Wild’s surprise, looked just as excited to see Time’s heartfelt reunion with his redheaded spouse.

“Everyone, this is my wife, Malon,” Time announced proudly, sporting a brighter smile than Wild had ever seen from him.

They piled into a small ranch house. Malon greeted each Link in turn with a warm smile and kind words, and Wild was immediately struck by her sincerity. As she flitted from hero to hero, Wild took the opportunity to glance around Time’s house, noting simple plaster-and-wood walls that held weapons and presumed mementos, a small vase of fresh wildflowers, wooden furniture appearing modest yet well-kept, and unadorned windows that lit the rooms with country sunshine. The ranch house held the lived-in feel of a true _home_, and Wild’s heart cheered with memories of Hateno.

Time seemed cheerful as well. His good eye crinkled with devotion and remained fixed on Malon even when he shrugged out of his equipment and hung his sword casually near the door. Wild noticed a new easiness to Time’s walk as he led the heroes outside to help with chores.

Later that afternoon, Wild joined Malon in the cozy kitchen. He’d been volunteered for cooking duty.

“My husband says you’re good with a cooking pot,” Malon told him, smiling. She grabbed a cotton apron hanging from the wall and tied it firmly behind her back, then she tucked her red bangs behind her ears. Wild gathered his long blonde hair and re-bound it securely just below his neck. The ranch kitchen was small but well-stocked, boasting a full array of cookware that Wild rarely had access to on the road.

He grinned and shrugged.

“So, I was thinking,” Malon said, “this many people, on such short notice but still hours before dinner? It’s gotta be-” 

“Stew,” they finished together. Malon beamed, and Wild found himself laughing.

“Exactly,” Malon said. “And we have plenty of milk and fresh cream, so probably something with a creamy base...”

“Do you have any radishes?” Wild asked, an idea forming is his mind.

“Out in the garden we do!” she told him with a small bounce.

“I have a recipe, but we’ll probably need to substitute some things,” Wild considered.

“We have a full pantry, hopefully it’ll do. And I just canned some berries last week, so I was thinking of sweet bread and jam for dessert, if you can do bread,” she said.

Wild grinned. He thought of the small clay oven in his own kitchen, and sweet memories of restful days spent baking. “I can do bread,” he told her, running a bashful hand behind his scarred ear.

The clatter of utensils and easy conversation filled the kitchen as they cooked together in happy company. The experience felt oddly familiar, and Wild struggled to place it. His thoughts flashed to little Koko in Kakariko; was he remembering that time he’d helped her prepare the recipes she’d learned from her mother? But no, that memory wasn’t quite a match... _Where had he learned to cook from?_ he silently pondered. He’d woken up with an uncanny knack for paring vegetables, simmering sauces, and picking spices that only grew stronger with each recipe he learned. Maybe he’d once cooked with his mother, too. He’d add it to his long list of things to wonder about.

Wild had just begun mixing a sweet glaze for the bread when the other heroes piled into the kitchen through the creaky back door, led by Time. The Old Man wore a white linen shirt that contrasted sharply with his usual armored appearance. He gathered his arms around Malon even as she vigorously stirred the huge, simmering pot on the stove, earning him a playful kick and mischievous grin from his wife.

Wild finished mixing the glaze in absentminded contentment as Malon and Time entertained the eager heroes with stories of their past. He turned to retrieve the bread dough from where he’d left it to rise, and suddenly realized that the previously lighthearted conversation had shifted.

“WHAT?” Time demanded, leveling his good eye at Malon.

“Now-now, don’t worry—” Malon returned easily, but Time cut her off.

“Don’t WORRY!?”

“Don’t you start!”

Wild stared in disbelief, but the argument faded as soon as it had begun. It wasn’t long before the spouses shot sly looks at each other and Wild could see there’d been no harm done.

He transferred the dough to a deep pan, then he dunked his floured hands into the sink basin, all the while marveling at how Time and Malon had built such familiarity that they could argue openly and still make up with ease. A contrasting memory of a moss-covered shrine, Zelda stalking angrily toward him, and his own conspicuous silence rose in Wild’s mind.

“No doubt you boys are all thinking about your own situations,” Malon told the group. Wild immediately dropped his eyes to the bread pan now clutched in his clean hands. Time’s wife was clearly perceptive.

“You know one Link, you know them all,” Malon continued. “I’m sure you’ve found a gal with a little sass. You’re all attracted to that spark. It’s like you boys love a battle or something.”

She thumped Time’s shoulder playfully with the back of her mixing spoon. He turned, attempting to catch her in another bear hug, _and knocked over the full jar of jam Wild had left opened on the wooden counter_. Wild’s eyes went wide as the jar flew, showering the Hero of Time in gooey purple jam.

Time froze. He lowered his gaze to his ruined white shirt. For a moment, Wild feared he might become angry, but Malon cut through the tension easily.

“What did I say,” she joked with a cheeky grin. “Looks like I won that battle.”

“You’re right,” Time began, turning to her slowly. “Then let me congratulate your victory!” he announced, snuggling into his wife’s side and playfully smearing purple berries across her rosy cheek.

Wild breathed a sigh of relief and popped the bread pan into the warm oven. As he took a seat at the crowded table beside Warriors, he watched the berry-covered couple dissolve into _giggles_.

Wild was struck by just how differently Time acted on the ranch. Warriors had been very wrong, because Time was relaxed and even _playful_ here. He wasn’t a man constantly on duty. Here, Wild saw that Time had clearly found peace. He told Warriors as much in a low voice.

Warriors flashed him a knowing grin. “Sounds like that’s what you want, too.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Wild replied. “But I bought a house...”

***

The heroes fell into an easy routine of chores, hearty meals, and soft beds (or at least, soft blankets over a wooden floor, which was still an improvement to cold ground). On their third day, Wild was surprised when Time called him from the kitchen to muck stalls with Twilight. Wild figured he’d be more of a hindrance than a help to the farmer, but he went along anyway. The two friends grabbed pitchforks and began sifting manure from the hay. Twilight hummed loudly through a few minutes of work, then he turned and shook his head at Wild.

“Two things,” Twilight told him. “One: you gotta really get under that hay, not just the stuff on top.”

Wild rolled his eyes and dug his pitchfork deeper into the soiled hay.

“Two: can we talk about what’s going on with you?” Twilight asked pointedly. He stared at Wild across the horse stall.

“What?” Wild asked.

“C’mon, you’ve been a little off for awhile now.”

Wild nudged the edge of his pitchfork with his boot. He knew how important this detour was for Twilight, and he’d been trying hard not to dampen it with his own problems. “I’m fine,” he replied.

“_Really_?” Twilight challenged. He flipped his pitchfork over in his hands with quick ease and playfully knocked Wild’s ankle with the wooden handle. Wild stumbled, unprepared. Twilight twirled his makeshift weapon and came around for another shot at Wild’s leg. Wild fumbled with his pitchfork and attempted a block with the tines, but he was too slow. Twilight hooked them with his own pitchfork and smoothly disarmed him. Wild’s pitchfork sailed across the stable. It hit the wall with a dull _THWAP_, then fell into the hay.

Wild stared sheepishly at his lost weapon.

“It’s about your Zelda, right?” Twilight raised his eyebrows in knowing accusation as he relaxed out of his fighting stance.

Wild didn’t even bother acting surprised; he’d explained much of his past during odd hours of the night while taking watch alongside Twilight’s giant wolf form. Wild knew that trying to deflect his friend’s concern any further would be pointless.

Wild twisted his mouth and finally nodded. “I don’t think she knows how much I don’t know,” he admitted. “About her. And everything that happened. Before.”

Twilight set his pitchfork against the wooden wall and crossed his arms in front of his broad shoulders. “I thought she knew you lost your memory.”

“She does. And like, I’ve gotten a few things back. It’s just so _few_, I don’t think she knows _how few_.”

“Why doesn’t she know?” Twilight pressed.

Wild shrugged. “Well, I don’t say much when I’m with her.”

Twilight gave him a patronizing look.

“_Wild_.”

“What?” Wild’s voice came out more defensive than he intended.

“Why not?”

“I dunno, I don’t have much to say,” Wild said lamely.

Twilight chuckled. “That’s a lie. I mean, you don’t talk out of your ass, but when you_ do_ talk you have plenty to say.”

“Fine, I dunno then. I guess I never really saw myself talking with her, in what I saw from before. And it’s not like we’re traveling together for the company, we have work to do.”

“Did she tell you that?”

Wild thought of the diary that he still felt strange to have read. _I wish to talk with him more,_ she had written,_ to hear him speak freely and openly._ He wondered, had they gotten that chance to talk? In many of his memories she was clearly frustrated by him, but in later memories they seemed so close. And after they left the castle, she _acted_ close. What conversations had passed between them that he could only guess at? Who had she been expecting when she woke him from the shrine?

He realized Twilight was still waiting for an answer.

“Well, no. But I mean, she never really wanted me there… And maybe she grew to like me when we were traveling. But that was old me. Before.”

“Seems like you’re really struggling with this. You in love?” Twilight lobbed the question so casually—it hit Wild completely off guard. His breathing tripped and his face flooded with heat as he sputtered for an answer.

Twilight let the damning silence linger for a moment, then he mercifully doubled back to Wild’s last coherent statement. “For what it’s worth,” Twilight told him, “I appreciate whoever the ‘you’ is now.” He gave Wild an affectionate shove that broke through his burning embarrassment.

“That’s so sweet, wolfie,” Wild shot back.

Twilight rolled his eyes and grabbed his pitchfork. “You know who you should talk to about this? Malon.”

Wild threw him a dubious look. “You’re just saying that because she’s your long-lost grandma.”

“No, I’m saying it because she’s smart and kind and she knows how to talk sense into troubled heroes.”

Wild recognized wisdom in Twilight’s point, but he still sighed and turned away. “I’ll think about it,” he told Twilight.

Twilight shrugged and dug his pitchfork into the hay as he began humming his song once more. Wild retrieved his own fork from the far side of the stall where it had landed. As Twilight’s notes filled the stable, he realized the song was familiar. _Hadn’t Time hummed the same melody, after their conversation on the road? Come to think of it, the melody seemed to stir up a cloudy memory, as if he’d heard it long before meeting Time..._

“Twi, isn’t that Time’s song?” Wild asked. 

Twilight glanced up. “Oh, yeah, he knows it too. We share a lot of songs,” he laughed. “It’s like our horse song—he says he learned that one from Malon.” Twilight beamed.

“What’s this one called?”

“I dunno.” Twilight shrugged and returned to mucking. Wild joined him, brushing the thought from his mind. But later that day, as Wild helped Malon prepare dinner, he realized that she, too, was humming the exact same tune.

“That’s a nice song,” he told her as she handed him two eggs.

She smiled brightly, then she poured a generous splash of milk over a steaming bowl of potatoes. “Thanks. It’s very special to me. Link wrote it. He plays it best.” 

“Huh,” Wild said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t know he played anything.” He cracked the eggs into his bowl and began to stir.

“Few people do,” she returned.

Mysterious songs aside, maybe he should talk to Malon about Zelda, Wild thought to himself. Twilight was right, she seemed to have a wisdom about these things. A wisdom about Links, at least. And Time said she knew _everything_ about his adventures. Surely Wild’s own situation couldn’t be more convoluted than the Old Man’s, he convinced himself.

“So, wanna tell me about this girl?” Malon asked him.

Wild’s wooden spoon clattered to the floor. “What?”

“Did I get it wrong?” Malon asked, her face becoming suddenly apologetic. “Sorry sweetheart, I shouldn’t‘ve assumed.”

Wild grabbed the spoon from the floor and dropped it into the soapy sink basin. “No, you’re _right_. It’s just… not like that.”

“Well, then why don’t you tell me how it is?”

***

Malon trudged back to the ranch. She led her horse by the reigns; she didn’t want to overburden the mare after such a long day. Her father had sent her on a tedious series of traveling chores that began before sunrise, and Malon felt overjoyed to finally be_ home_. Maybe tonight she’d try talking with Link, she thought to herself. He seemed distant lately. Only a few months had passed since he’d found her in his room, the evening she’d broken his trust. Sure, they’d made up—Link had a knack for forgiveness—but she still felt a fierce need to defend their growing closeness. She feared making another careless mistake. Would Link be so quick to forgive again?

She returned the mare to her stall, then left the stable and caught a glimpse of the setting sun as it dipped just beneath the horizon. Chilled evening air met her face and crickets sang in the tall grass. And on the breeze, she heard another sound... a strange, clear, lilting tune rising from somewhere ahead of her.

The notes were pure and otherworldly. The sound was growing louder now as she approached the main corral. She turned past the stable. A dazzling sight met her.

The field beyond the fence was aglow in a half-dozen colors of soft light. Pinpricks of shining yellows and light blues twinkled in the grass among the thistle, while soft pinks and whites floated whimsically through the air. As she approached, the music grew louder still. Each note sang through the evening air with a keen clarity.

It was a familiar tune, yet it wasn’t. She recognized bits of her mother’s melody, but with unexpected climbs followed by dips that turned the song into something more daring. If her mother’s song spoke of contentment, then this song cried out with wondrous hope.

As she opened the gate, her eyes found the very person she hoped for: Link knelt in the middle of the field on a woolen blanket while lights twinkled all around. And there, held to his lips with both hands, was the ocarina. A path of flickering glass jars lit her way to him.

Link had been absent often lately, disappearing from the ranch at odd times to odd places and leaving Malon to worry that they were growing apart again. But now she realized that he hadn’t been pulling away, he’d been _preparing_.

The cool grass brushed against her ankles as she made her way across the field. She saw that some of the jars held yellow tea lights, but others were filled with a strange blue fire that licked at the glass. As she neared, she realized the floating lights came from dozens of fairies dancing through the air. Malon gasped in wonder. She had never seen so many fairies in one place before.

Link glanced up at her beneath heavy lids. The dazzling lights reflected in the shine of his eyes and their corners crinkled in a smile. Malon folded her skirt as she sat gently beside him on the soft woolen blanket. Her heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she feared distracting him from his song, so she clasped her hands tightly in her lap to keep them from wandering and instead marveled at him as he played. His fingers darted across the instrument with a casual sureness and his chest rose and fell as he shaped each phrase. She’d heard him play only a few times before, and never with such sincerity.

The song slowed to a conclusion so sweet and hopeful that she felt tears welling in her eyes. Link lowered the instrument gently to his lap, then he raised his gaze to her.

“That was incredible,” she breathed.

Link smiled. “I made it for you. It’s your song,” he told her simply.

Malon felt stunned. She struggled with the gravity of his words. Because until moments ago, she doubted whether she would ever see the ocarina again. And now, he had used the ocarina to shape a song made just for her.

His face grew deadly serious as he carefully laid the ocarina beside him on the soft blanket. “I have something for you, if you’ll have it,” Link told her. His voice shook yet his eyes were resolute. Malon bit her bottom lip in anticipation.

He reached behind him and came back up with an ornate turquoise box, inlaid with gleaming yellow metal. He held the box out to her and pulled back the lid on its hinges, revealing what lay inside.

A large ring of sparkling amethyst and gold sat nestled on a satin pillow. The ring boasted a large center stone cut like a star, surrounded with dozens of smaller inlaid sister-stones adorning the band. The gems cast many-colored prisms of reflection in every direction around them. The ring was dazzling and entirely too much. Link’s face broke into a wide smile, gleaming in the light.

“Malon,” he began, and she saw the box shaking in his hand. “I love you. And I want to commit to you. No matter where or when we are, for the now and for the future.” He paused to draw a breath. “You are strong, and true, and kind... Will you have me?”

Malon nodded wildly as tears finally leaked from her eyes and down her cheeks.

“Yes, of course!” she cried. “Of course, Fairy Boy, a hundred times over!” She threw herself into his arms and he caught her, as he always did and always would. She kissed his cheek and his eyelid and his nose before finally kissing his lips. He returned her kiss more deeply than he ever had before, running his free hand through the hair at the nape of her neck.

When they finally broke apart, Malon found herself giggling wildly. Link’s joyous gaze remained fixed on her as their chests heaved with shared breathlessness.

“So, you want this?” Link asked, one hand still clutching the ring box.

“I dunno, I’m kind of afraid to wear it…” she began, eyeing the ornate ring suspiciously. But Link’s wide-eyed look of eager expectation convinced her to reach out her hand. He slipped the ring to the knuckle of her finger, then she used her right hand to pull it the rest of the way. It would certainly take some getting used to, she thought to herself as she fanned out her fingers and studied the ring. Then she glanced around the wondrously lit field once more.

“I do have to ask one thing,” Malon began.

Link gave a small frown of concern.

“No, I didn’t mean to worry you!” she told him. “I was just wondering, _how did you get so many fairies here_, Fairy Boy?”

Link chuckled. “I just asked them,” he said with a small shrug. Malon gave a loud, clear laugh at the obviousness of his answer.

“Speaking of, thank you, everyone!” Link announced to the field, and the lights in the sky wavered, then began to flit away.

Malon watched keenly, fascinated, until the only glow that remained was from the fire-filled jars. Then she snuggled into Link’s side and tucked her cheek into his broad shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and wrapped an arm tightly around her waist.

The two stayed entwined together, curled in complete, consummate happiness as the moon rose high in the night sky. 


	6. Right Where You Left It

“Well, then why don’t you tell me how it is?”

Malon shot Wild a daring glance across the kitchen counter. He recognized the appeal to his courage. Twilight was right, she_ was_ good at coaxing things out of troubled heroes, Wild realized. No wonder Time liked her so much.

“So, um,” Wild began, “there’s this princess.”

“Mhm,” Malon encouraged with a hint of knowing sass as she began forcefully mashing her bowl of potatoes with a hand mallet.

“And uh, she chose me as her appointed knight. Because of the sword, it chose me first.” He stared down at the counter.

Malon nodded and continued mashing. The dull sound of wood clinking against ceramic served as a welcome distraction during his usual pauses.

“And I protected her. But then there was a great evil.”

“Ganondorf,” Malon supplied. Wild nodded.

“Yeah, well, Calamity Ganon. And we tried to fight it but we all lost. And I was…wounded.” He thumbed at his scarred ear. “So she put me somewhere to heal, for a hundred years, and all that time—all that time she was fighting. And hoping that I’d come back. And I _did_. But I didn’t remember anything. I had to learn it all again. So we fought Ganon again, and we won. But now it’s just her and I. She’s so smart, and brave, and caring, she wants to put the whole country back together…” he trailed off.

Malon set the mallet aside and glanced up. “But?”

Wild swallowed. “I’m supposed to go with her and be her knight again. But I’m not the same. I dunno what I want now, it’s different. But she deserves the me she waited so long to see. And she’s wonderful, it’s not that I don’t want to go with her...”

He was surprised he’d gone on for so long. He felt suddenly exposed. He needed to be _doing_ something, so he reached into the sink and grabbed the wooden spoon, then he began drying it on a dishcloth.

Malon began slicing thick pats of butter into the mashed potatoes. “I don’t believe you, that you don’t know what you want now,” she told him matter-of-factly.

Wild glanced down at the counter, examining the whorls and lines of its polished wood grain. He struggled after any honest answer buried within his mind.

“Well, I have a little house. That’s something I wanted,” he admitted. “But I don’t mind traveling. In fact, I like going wherever I’m needed. And helping whoever I want.”

“You like adventuring,” Malon told him, and the simple statement resonated in his bones. He nodded. 

“You know,” she said, “_my_ Link had important things to do, too. And he did alright with all kinds of prophecy and expectation. He rose to the challenge bravely, he’s good with resolve. But still—and this goes for all of you—when the evil’s slain and the fairytale’s over, you gotta open yourself up to finding your own place in the world. The place _you_ want.”

Malon set down the bowl of potatoes and looked him straight in the eyes. Wild fought against the urge to glance away from the unyielding stare.

“Sweetheart, here’s the truth,” she told him. “You can’t be anyone but you. Just like I can’t be anyone but me. Even other versions of me,” she paused and narrowed her eyes, “other versions that he remembers. I’d wear myself ragged trying to be someone I wasn’t. And then we’d both be worse off for it. I can’t change what’s happened to him, and he’d probably get hurt if I tried, so I just love him honestly in the _now_.”

Wild blinked. He thought of Zelda. Was it possible for him to share this new side of him, this side that reveled in freedom, while keeping his steadfast commitment to serve her? Malon’s advice made it sound possible to do _both_. He felt a small seed of hope settling in his chest.   
  
“He’s only a person, after all. Just like this princess of yours,” Malon added with a smile. “Just talking upfront-like to the people we care about usually goes a long way. For you, and for them.”

Alright, Malon’s insight was _uncanny_. Wild could admit that.

“Anyways, the potatoes just need a little salt, those cookies of yours can bake while we eat. Should we call the others in?” she asked. He understood; she was giving him an opportunity to say more, or end their conversation. She was incredibly thoughtful, and her words had encouraged him greatly. But he’d already talked more than enough.

“I’ll run and get them,” he told her. She gave him a knowing smile. For a moment he was reminded of Zelda’s rare, carefree smiles, and for the first time in a long while he felt only happiness alongside her memory.

Malon returned to her song as she began setting the table.

Wild carried the melody with him as he left out the creaky back door, and the hope in his chest sprouted. Because if Malon could trust her honest self in devotion to a duty-bound Time, then maybe Wild could do the same with Zelda. From his time on the ranch, he could see how the two were curiously alike: Time and Zelda each shouldered great purpose, yet both remained light and even playful underneath. Malon found a way to push back against Time’s sense of duty while simultaneously underscoring it, and her example left Wild inspired. Spurred on by happiness, Wild ran out to the stable, grabbing an old shovel leaning against the outer wall as he flew past.

“Hey Twi,” he called, rounding the doorway to find Twilight sweeping the stable floor exactly as he’d expected. Twilight glanced up and barely had time to raise his broom to counter as Wild rushed toward him with an exaggerated swing of the shovel.

Twilight shot him a smug smile. He returned Wild’s attack with a wide swipe of his broom’s bristles. Wild backflipped away. He thrust the shovel’s blade toward Twilight’s abdomen. Twilight sidestepped and blocked the handle with a forearm strike, knocking Wild’s shovel off-course. But Wild had anticipated Twilight’s block. He used the momentum to arc the shovel toward the larger man’s feet. Twilight tried to counter with the broom-head, but the bristles gave way against the speeding shovel. The broad side of the shovel smacked his ankle, and Twilight stumbled.

Twilight gave Wild a meaningful look, then he tossed his broom aside and raised both hands in defeat. Wild grinned at him.

“One,” he told Twilight, “Dinner’s ready. And two,” Wild narrowed his eyes, “you were absolutely right.”

The two heroes shared a smile, then they went to gather the others for dinner. As they walked out of the stable and into the growing dusk, Wild found his friends’ hopeful song resounding within him—_and he suddenly remembered._ He _did_ know the song, or at least a piece of it, from his own time, from his own Hyrule! It was a tune he heard around stable campfires on the strings and flutes of traveling musicians, a tune that spoke to him of warm beds and kind folk—a relative rarity in his sparsely populated kingdom. He’d heard the distant melody many times as he crested a hill, only to glance down at a stable nestled in the valley, an oasis of comfort in the harsh wilderness.

How many years separated his friends from his own time? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Yet, if he weren’t mistaken, this song had somehow lived on, carrying the hopeful spirit of his friends into the future. If their song could travel all the way there, then perhaps he’d find the courage to carry their advice back with him, too.

His mind was made up: if he went back...no, _when_ he went back, he corrected, he might just try speaking openly with his princess.

***

_Many months later_

Wild’s stomach sank as the world changed around him in a terribly familiar way. _NO_, he thought to himself. _They were done, weren’t they? They’d fought and bled and they’d WON. There couldn’t possibly be MORE, could there?_

He found himself standing in a small camp cloaked in darkness save for a crackling fire and a setting moon. Ruined, rotting houses surrounded him. The other heroes were nowhere to be seen.

“Link!” a familiar voice called from behind. He spun around.

Standing before him was Zelda. Her long, blonde hair gleamed in the nearby firelight and her eyes shone with concern. He blinked at her in disbelief.

“Link, what happened?!” she cried.

Wild looked around again. He recognized this place from so long ago—the camp they’d pitched amidst the Goponga Village ruins. He glanced at the fire, where the logs were arranged exactly as he always placed them. He had made this fire, there was no doubt.

“You disappeared suddenly, without even the glow of the Sheikah teleportation!” Zelda exclaimed. “I looked and looked for you, for several hours! But I didn’t want to stray too far from camp if you came back. Especially in the darkness, who knows what’s prowling, and already one of us was unaccounted for and I didn’t want to add _more_ trouble to our predicament,” she rambled joyfully.

She continued on. Wild felt his legs twitch, telling him that he ought to kneel.

But that was the _old_ Link’s memory, he realized. He may have fallen back on those old ways once. But he was Wild now. Over a year of living outside of his Hyrule had reforged him, and he liked the man he’d become. He thought of his friends, of Twilight and Time and all the others, then he thought of Malon and her advice that he wanted so desperately to live by. Encouraged, he pushed back against the old Link’s muscle memory as his friends’ comforting song swelled within him, urging him to follow the hope in his heart.

He took three steps forward and clasped Zelda in a hug, cutting off her words. She froze for a stunned second, then returned the embrace wholeheartedly. A jolt of electric joy shot through Wild’s chest.

He pulled away and smiled wildly.

“Link,” she said with a surprised laugh.

“I don’t think I’m the same Link anymore,” Wild admitted to her. Honesty felt surprisingly good.

Zelda studied him carefully in the flickering firelight. “How long have you been away?” she asked. Her hand caught the tail of his frayed hair that now rivaled hers in length. He’d hardly touched it with a knife since the day he left.

“A long time,” he replied. She knew of magic and other inexplicable things, he knew she’d understand enough for now, at least.

His surroundings jogged a memory deep in his mind and a slow realization rolled over him. _The song... the **stable** song_. If only a handful of hours had passed in all the time he’d been away... then that meant a small, helpless boy was still making his way to the Wetland Stable! Wild gasped as he connected the pieces in his mind. His friends’ song seemed suddenly _prophetic_. And maybe it was just coincidence, or maybe the goddess’s hand had woven this melody through the hero’s long history, who could say? Either way, the path before him was completely clear.

Zelda opened her mouth to ask more questions, but for the first time in Wild’s life, he cut her off.

“I have so much to tell you. And I_ will_ tell you about it. About everything, I promise. But first,” he said, “there’s something we need to do. Now.”

Zelda looked stunned. “Now?” she asked, raising a delicate fist to her chest in concern.

Wild took a deep breath. “There’s a boy making his way through the swamp. I ran into him earlier in the night. I think he’s been orphaned, and he’s trying to make his way to family at the Wetland Stable. I’m worried about him.”

“Wait, this child is navigating the swamp _right now_?” she asked. Wild nodded. “Alright, um, well...” she trailed off, clearly overwhelmed by the night’s events.

“I think he needs help. Our help. But I know we have a mission. Zora’s Domain,” he said carefully.

Zelda shook her head. “No, you’re right. It’s far too dangerous for him to go alone. Why didn’t you tell me this?” she asked, her eyes crinkling in concern.

Wild glanced down. “I didn’t think it was my place,” he said quietly. She gave him a long, searching look. Then she furrowed her brow, grabbed his arm, and yanked him down abruptly onto a nearby log.

“Not your place?” she asked intensely, her face filled with impassioned concern. “Link, we’re _partners_. We’re two parts of a greater whole. Don’t you know that you don’t serve me, not anymore?”

He stared back at her in dazed silence.

“Don’t you know that you being here, alive, is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me?” she admitted. Link started, shocked to hear her speaking so candidly.

“I was thinking, while you were gone, about how you should have been killed but you lived, and now you’re _here_,” she continued. “And only the goddess knows why, but in the ruins of this kingdom She’s at least blessed us with a chance for freedom.”

Link nodded, lost for words. He should have known that she would see through him, to the desire for freedom he’d harbored since the moment he’d crawled out from that dim stone shrine and stumbled into the sunlight. For, he realized, it was a desire she shared, folded haphazardly beneath her sense of duty, just as his was, too.

“Tell me, is this boy important to you?” Zelda asked.

He nodded more emphatically. “Yes,” he finally managed.

“Then he’s important to me as well. Besides,” she considered, “we can’t rebuild Hyrule on grand initiatives alone.” She nodded, as if also convincing herself, and her expression grew determined. “Let’s go find this boy.” Her eyes glinted like steel in the dying firelight. Then she stood abruptly and began kicking dirt onto their fire.

Wild marveled at the sudden change in their dynamic. Everything here had stayed exactly the same—including Zelda herself—but _he_ had changed, and now it was all different. A wordless, thankful prayer rose within him, and though he wasn’t at a statue, he hoped his thanks reached Hylia.

He pushed himself to his feet and began swiftly packing their camp. He barely had time to take in the strange familiarity of his old things. Soon, they were ready to leave.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Zelda cried, lifting a lantern with one arm and grabbing Wild’s hand in the other. He jumped, shocked by her casual touch. Her hand was soft and warm and wonderful as she pulled him insistently onward to their detour. He followed breathlessly, feeling as if he’d suddenly swallowed an electric darner.

They journeyed a few hours through the wetlands until the first pink hints of sunlight streaked across the sky behind them. They’d kept a quick pace, and as they reached the end of the swamp, Wild finally caught sight of a pinprick of light bobbing ahead. The boy was just down the road, unharmed.

He glanced to Zelda at his side, whose beauty shone through the muck that now covered them both after their hasty traveling. She had seen the light as well. They shared a relieved smile, then she winked at him and took off jogging into the darkness toward the boy ahead. Wild grinned and started after her. He was still following her lead, just as he always had, but now they pursued a mutual hope, and the path ahead held both duty _and_ fun. _Maybe I could teach her to shieldsurf when we get to Trilby,_ he considered. His smile widened as he pictured her speeding down the side of a hill with her golden hair streaming behind her. _Definitely worth asking_. He’d learned one thing today: Zelda was full of surprises. And instead of agonizing over not knowing her as well as he’d like, he could just ask. He considered how easily she’d taken his hand. _She might even say yes,_ he realized. 

She wasn’t the frustrated teenager that stomped through his early memories, nor was he the same knight who once knelt silently at her side. After all that had happened, he was barely the same hero who’d helped her bring down the Calamity. So maybe now they could learn and discover each other, together.

Unfettered joy rose in Wild’s heart as he chased after his princess. The sun climbed over the horizon to light their path as they ran together toward the ever-unfolding adventure that awaited them in the freedom of the wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, leave kudos, and especially comment. Your support for this work means so much!

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [ClumsyDarknut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClumsyDarknut/pseuds/ClumsyDarknut), who is not only a fantastic beta reader, but who also helped immensely with characterization and some major plot points.
> 
> Title and chapter titles taken from the song "Everything Stays" as sung by Rebecca Sugar and Olivia Olson, popularized by Adventure Time:
> 
> _Let's go in the garden_  
_You'll find something waiting_  
_Right there where you left it, lying upside down._  
_When you finally find it, you'll see how it's faded:_  
_The underside is lighter when you turn it around._
> 
> _Go down to the ocean_  
_The crystal tide is raising._  
_The water's gotten higher as the shore washes out._  
_Keep your eyes wide open even when the sun is blazing,_  
_The moon controls the tide, it can cause you to drown._
> 
> _Everything stays right where you left it._   
_Everything stays, but it still changes_   
_Ever so slightly, daily and nightly, in little ways_   
_When everything stays_


End file.
